My favorite player is winding down. Winding down, nothing whatsoever like a well-constructed gold pocket watch, which never winds down, not if you keep it out of the weather and dont bang it around. Rather, coming to an end of this aspect of his life, and preparing, I am hopeful, for the next. And when they speak of him, it is reverently, but in the past tense. How good was he, ago? Oh, very good. And they, the ubiquitous noise trying to keep everyones attention away from everyone else, then talk about whats happening now. Because that is what they believe we are interested in. Now, this immediate thunderclap instant. Whos great now? Really? And how great are they? Oh, better than anyone has ever been. An absurdity, of course, both in question and response, but no one cares. Or, rather, no one cares that I think so.